Luke's Warning
by Quazie89
Summary: Luke tries to warn Han about there being a potential evil in his son, but Han, of course, doesn't listen. Takes place sometime toward the end of The Force Awakens.


Hello, everybody! I really love Star Wars. It's one of my all-time favorite movies, so I got the sudden urge to write this fan fic for it. In this story, Luke tries to warn Han about there being an evil in his son, Ben, but Han, of course, refuses to heed his warning. It takes place sometime in between Return of the Jedi and a little bit during The Force Awakens toward the end. It is my first Star Wars fic, and I didn't know how good I would do on it, but I hope you enjoy the story!

Peering out of the viewport of the Millennium Falcon with a dreamy, distant, farway look on his face, gazing out at the sea of stars seemingly stretching endlessly out in front of him for an eternity, Han Solo leaned back in the captain seat, folding his hands behind his head. He never thought it would happen, and was increasingly finding it harder and harder to believe it had with each passing day, but he had become a father.

He liked the sound of it on his lips, though. Han Solo, father, he mouthed the words quietly to himself, so nobody else on the ship could hear, savoring the salivating taste of them on his mouth and letting it linger. He felt good being called a father, even if it did make him feel older than what he already did.

They were on their way to the Jedi Temple his brother-in-law, the now legendary Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, had built on some far-off, backwater planet at the farthest edge of the galaxy. Han had hadn't recognized the name of it. He couldn't even remember it. Luke himself was somewhere on the ship, doing who knew what. His brother-in-law had become somewhat reclusive in his old age, spending less and less time with his family and friends. Such secluded isolation wasn't good for anybody, Han knew, and he was starting to get more than a little worried about him.

They had already been traveling for hours now. Han had even sent them into Hyperspace eatlier and they were still nowhere near the planet, having being slowed down by an asteroid field on their way out, and it had been a rocky ride. Han was still sore from being bounced and jarred around by the asteroids each time one of them had made contact with the ship's hull. He wondered what Luke was thinking when he chose the planet. Was he trying to hide them and whisk them away from all civilization or something?

Han grunted. Knowing Luke, that was exactly what he was trying to do, and it sounded like something he would do, too. He wouldn't have put it passed the old man.

Growing tired and irritated, he twisted his neck and groaned, hearing it pop, and tried to rub the crick he had felt in the back of it with a big, well-worn, callused hand. "I must be getting old," he said, and glanced over at the aging, yet, still beautiful woman sitting next to him, giving her a tired, but sheepish grin. "I'm getting tired of sitting here for hours on end." Needing to stretch his muscles, which were getting stiff from sitting for so long, he slowly got to his feet, raising his arms above his head, wincing at the sound of his aching, creaking joints popping in protest. "Can I hold him?" He tilted his head toward his son, who she held so lovingly in her arms, holding his hands out toward him. "Please?"

She nodded, laughter in her eyes, which were twinkling with amusement. "Sure, you can, Han," she said, planting the boy in his fumbling, awkward hands, and for a moment, Han was afraid he was going to drop him. "Just don't drop him," she added, as if she had been reading his mind.

Han snorted. "Can't you have a little bit more faith in me, Princess?" he asked, binging to grumble, but smiled. He stared down at his young son in disbelief, cradling him in his arms, and cooed to him softly, thinking the sound must've seemed odd coming out of a grizzled, veteran, smuggler pilot as old as he was.

The kid must've thought it was a funny sound, too, for he laughed and stretched his hand out toward Han's nose, squeezing it, his tiny little fingers running down the craggy planes of Han's withered face, tracing the age lines that hadn't been there just a few years ago, not that Han could remember, anyway.

The love of his life and his now longtime wife of many years, the former Princess of Alderaan, Leia Organa Solo, peered up at him from where she sat in the co-pilot's seat. "He looks like you, you know?" she asked, squeezing his arm.

Han looked over at her, raising one graying, bushy eyebrow, skeptical. "You think so?" he asked, and looked back over at the kid, thinking he looked nothing like him at all. He might when he got older, he thought, but right then his face was too smooth, much too flawless, and his lengthy, black hair, already falling to his shoulders in thick, ebony, waves and framing his narrow, pale face, much too long and dark, and providing too much of a contrast to Han's own thinning, snow white hair, for him to see any of himself in his son. He wouldn't tell Leia, knowing how mad she would get, but he thought he looked more like an alien of some kind then anything.

Han shook his head, but his mouth curved up into the infamous, crooked trademark, Solo smile of his. "I don't know," he said, handing Ben back over to Leia, who gently took him into her arms, treating him with the utmost love and affection. "With that long hair of his I think he looks more like Chewbacca."

"HAN!" Leia scolded him, appalled, but a cute little snort escaped her mouth, and he could see the faint signs of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. He could tell she was trying not to laugh.

Chewbacca, who had been standing behind him, looming over him like the giant but gentle protector he was, roared with laughter. The Wookie slapped Han on one of his shoulders, hard, unknowingly slapping him hard enough to send him staggering, unaware of his own strength, and Han had to grab onto the pilot's seat for support.

"Jeez, Chewbacca," Han said, and gasped for breath, clutching at his heaving chest with one of his trembling hands. "Next time you decide to do that, give me a warning, okay?"

Chewbacca just shook his head, his lofty frame trembling with laughter, soft chortling sounds coming from his mouth.

Han narrowed his gaze at him, putting his fists on his hips. "So, you thought that was funny, huh?" he asked, shaking his head. "I can't believe you, Chewie." He pointed a finger at his chest. "I thought you were on my side?"

If anything, this seemed to make Chewbacca laugh even harder, and the Wookie threw his head back with an amused roar.

Han threw his hand up in surrender. "BAH!" Giving Chewbacca up as a lost cause, he turned away from the big hairy beast and peered down at his wife and son, unable to believe they were his.

"Han, can I have a word with you a minute out here?"

Startled by the new, yet familiar voice, the rare, happy moment interrupted, Han jumped and swerved around, seeing Luke Skywalker standing in the doorway.

The Jedi Master stood, as always, with quiet dignity, his hands folded in front of his chest. The farm boy he had once known from Tatooine was no longer a farm boy. He couldn't call him 'the kid' anymore, the way he used to when they had both been younger. He had gotten old, and looked it, becoming more and more like the old Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi with each passing day. In the many years since they had battled the Empire and emerged victorious, defeating the supreme, evil Lord Darth Vader, Luke's own father, in the process, his once, fair, shoulder-length hair had turned gray, his face had became lined and withered by age and time as much as Han's had, and he had even grown a lengthy, good-sized, salt-peppered beard, by all rights a caveman's beard, which trailed down almost to his chest. To be honest, Han had been surprised by the beard when he had first saw it. He hadn't expected the kid would've been able to grow one. He had always thought Luke had been born with too much of a baby face to grow one. He sure had fooled him! He wouldn't tell Luke, of course, knowing the old man would never let him hear the end if it, but he was secretly envious of the beard. He had never been able to grow a beard like that.

"Oh, why, hello, there, Luke, old buddy," Han said, once he had gotten his breath back. "I didn't know you were there." He slowly walked up to him, placing a hand on of his hands throbbing hips, and done his best to try to ignore the excruciating pain they were causing him. They had been bothering him more and more of late. He had suspected it was where it was so cold out in space, but that didn't make much sense. His hips hadn't bothered him this bad before, and he kept the Millennium Falcon pretty much heated all year round. Han grimaced, but tried to hide it, knowing the real truth of the matter. Who was he fooling? No matter how much he liked to blame it on asteroids or space, it was old age and he knew it. "What can I do for you?"

"I want to talk to you about something," Luke said, walking back out of the cockpit, either not noticing Han's wince or choosing to ingore it, seeming to almost glide down the corridor outside.

Han gave a casual shrug of his shoulders. "Okay, sure," he said, following the old man out of the cockpit, wondering what it was he could've possibly wanted.

Han gasped, when, without warning, Luke shoved him up against the wall with sudden violence and an intensity that frightened him.

"I think this is bad idea," Luke said practically shoving his face against his, poking him in the chest with one of the gleaming, metallic, claw-like fingers of his usually concealed prosthetic hand, a gift from his dear old dad, which had slid out from underneath the sleeve of his robe.

Han gulped. "What?" he asked, fearing, all of a sudden, for his very life, finding him facing a stranger. This wasn't the Luke he knew. He didn't know what, but something had happened to the old Luke, and he didn't know where the kid had went.

Luke spun away from him, annoyed, the hem of his Jedi robe swirling above his feet. "You know what I'm talking about, Han!" He swerved back around to face him, placing his hands on either side of his head in his frustration. "Your son!" He let his hands fall back to his sides, his voice almost rising to a shout in his anger, and Han cringed, fearing Leia was going to overhear their little confrontation. "I don't want him in the Jedi Temple!"

Han began to stammer. "B-But why?" Han asked, and hating himself for it. He and Luke had shared this conversation several times before, back when Luke had first suggested the idea of starting an Academy. He knew what the old man's answer was going to be.

"There's an evil in him, an evil I've seen before, in somebody else," Luke said, lowering his voice again, to a low, dark and sinister whisper this time, one that sent chills down Han's spine and made him shudder to hear it. "I think you know who I'm talking about."

Han nodded. "Yeah, Vader," he said, as soon as he had managed to regain composure of himself once more. "So, what?" He found himself getting angry, too. "He's just a kid, a little boy. He doesn't know right from wrong, yet. Surly the great Jedi Master Luke Skywalker is powerful enough to handle a little boy." He had used this very same argument against Luke before, even though it hadn't worked then, and he knew it wouldn't work now, but he saw no harm in throwing it in the old man's face again, just in case he had frogotton, though he suspected he hadn't. Luke was just stubborn, as stubborn as Leia. He would never tell it straight to Leia's face, knowing she would clobber him good if he did, but Han often told Luke that he got his pigheadness from his sister. He was as hardheaded as her. When he had his mind set on to do something, he was always bound and determined to see it through, no matter what, and Han had always admired him for it. For example, when he had told everybody he was going to build a Jedi Temple, everybody had told him it couldn't been done, that there were just too few Jedi to teach, Luke and Leia being two of the very last ones left, as far as any of them knew. Han himself, being one of the naysayers, had believed the same thing. Leia had been the only one to support him in the endeavor, much to Han's embrassment. Despite having so little support, Luke hadn't given up, however, and had succeeding in turning his dream into a reailty. Han wished he had the old man's confidence, but confidence, he had learned a long time ago, required patience, and even though he remembered there had been a time he wouldn't have, Han was man enough to admit now that patience had never been one of his virtues. Still, he hoped Luke would one day change his mind about his son entering the academy.

He didn't have much hope of that ever happening, unfortunately.

Luke hung his head in shame, and for a brief moment, the old Luke was back, but he was gone an instant later, vanishing as soon as he had appeared. "I don't know if I'll be strong enough to resist his power," he said, and without another word, started back down the corridor.

"Luke, wait-" Han said, beginning to call out to the old man in protest, and stopped himself, knowing it wouldn't have done either of them any good, anyway.

Luke was already long gone.

Han shook his head, trying to clear it, the sounds of the battle taking place around him startling him out of the painful memory, finding himself in the midst of laser fire on the ancient forest planet of Takodana. He was trembling all over. He had just caught a glimpse of his son, Ben, after all this time, disappearing into the ship with the captured, unconscious Rey in his arms, still hoping she might've still been alive, even though knowing the odds of such an outcome happening were slim, espically when his son was involved, and the sight of him had rattled him to his core.

Staggering, Han leaned against the side of one of the many ruins scattered across the exotic world for support, taking a few deep breaths to calm his nerves.

He didn't exactly know the entire details of what had happened between Ben and Luke. From what little information he could gain from Leia, she said they had just had a little disagreement, which meant they could've been fighting over anything. Whatever had happened, it had been serious enough for Luke to flee from his family and friends without telling them where he was going.

This had been so unlike the confident Luke he had once known, and so out of character for him, Han had began to fear for his safety and wellbeing. He had even begun to worry he had gone to the Dark Side, and had admonished himself for it, knowing Luke would never turn to the Dark Side. He was pure light and goodness. He had to keep telling himself that, and not to worry, that Luke was a grown man and knew what was right and what was wrong, but he was finding it hard to do.

Giving into all of his pent-up grief and exhaustion at last, Han collapsed to the ground, his knees buckling. Embarrassed to feel tears running down his cheeks, he buried his face in his hands. Luke had warned him this would happen. He had possessed the power to stop his son and hadn't. He had been able to stop this senseless massacre before it had even begun and he had failed to do so. He was responsible for all the grief, pain and destruction all the innocent citizens of Takodana were being forced to deal with now, him and only him alone. He had nobody to blame but himself.

"What have I done?" Han moaned, his voice low, mournful, and sad.

There was nobody there to answer him.

The End


End file.
